


Plenty Natural

by 5bluetriangles



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur "Big Dick" Morgan, Hand Jobs, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Period-Typical Homophobia, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Self-Acceptance, Tender Sex, i saw that on a fic and died lol, john starts off not knowing that gay is okay but arthur teaches him, they might be a bit in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:49:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23797189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5bluetriangles/pseuds/5bluetriangles
Summary: John was quiet for a while, rousing crickets chirping around them as fireflies began to flicker in the forest.“What if I like men?” he asked finally.
Relationships: (background) Hosea Matthews/Dutch van der Linde, John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 18
Kudos: 175





	Plenty Natural

**Author's Note:**

> I've been having a super hard time writing so I took a break by...writing.....oops. Well, I had a lot of fun with this and I can't remember the last time the flow came so easily to me and I had such a good time! This is my first time writing morston and I hope I did well! I dive bombed into rdr2 and I love this ship so much. Definitely want to write more once I have more ideas for stories. Feedback is always appreciated and each and every comment is loved!! :)
> 
> Author's note: the numbers before each little section is John's age to show both the time passing and to show that he is very much of age when naughties happen cuz he's a kid in the first two lol. No underage here!

13  
  
“Arthur!”  
  
Arthur didn’t look up from his journal, merely offering a somewhat irritated grunt as John ducked into their shared tent hissing his name.  
  
“Arthur, I’ve seen Dutch and Hosea doin’ somethin’ real odd” the boy was saying, bewilderment clear in his tone.  
  
When John didn’t continue, Arthur offered him a tired, unimpressed look that made it abundantly clear that this was not interesting news and not worth his time, but the boy continued on.  
  
“I was—I was— well, it weren’t important was I was doin’” he stammered, realizing it wasn’t exactly smart to disclose that he was trying to sneak food. “I saw Dutch and Hosea off by themselves— I know that ain’t weird, but it was what they was _doin’_ , Arthur” he was saying, waving his hands about.  
  
Arthur sighed and pinched the bridge of nose.  
  
“What was they doin’, John?”  
  
“They was—” John glanced back over his shoulder quickly, still whisper shouting. “They was _holdin’ hands_. They was holdin’ hands and I couldn’t hear what they was sayin’ but they was leaned in real close to each other and I could tell they was talkin’ all quiet and sweet-like. Y’know, like a _lady_ and fella do. All romantic-like. ‘S’at queer, Arthur? ‘S queer, ain’t it?”  
  
Arthur stared at John’s frazzled expression, an inkling of shock in his eyes, but when he spoke it was an almost annoyed “so?” that had John struck with confusion.  
  
“ _’So’_? Folks get _hanged_ for bein’ queer!” he hissed, yet Arthur scoffed, looking back down to his journal and scratching at the paper with his pencil.  
  
“Folks get hanged for a lotta the stuff we do” he replied.  
  
And that made John pause. Because yeah, folks did get hanged for a lot of the stuff they did. But…  
  
“It ain’t natural!” he insisted, but then Arthur’s gaze was back on him and the man’s expression was hard. Angry.  
  
“What about it ain’t natural? What ain’t natural ‘bout people lovin’ each other?”  
  
John faltered at Arthur’s tone.  
  
Partially because he didn’t understand why the man was upset, and partially because…he didn’t _know_ what was unnatural about it.  
  
  
  
13  
  
“Arthur?”  
  
Arthur lay still in his bedroll, eyes closed and feigning sleep in hopes that John would let him be, but there was the sound of shuffling in the bedroll next to him for a moment before the boy called his name a second time.  
  
“What?” he grumbled, turning his head to look at John through the darkness.  
  
“I’ve seen somethin’ the other night” John said, voice hushed in the night rather than the distress he had been in last time they’d had this conversation.  
  
“I don’t much care about what you’ve seen, John.”  
  
“I’ve seen Dutch and Hosea again” he continued, unphased. “They was…they was _kissin’_ Arthur. Holdin’ each other and whispering all tender-like” he said, fingers gingerly touching his lips. “It had me thinkin’. You know how you said it ain’t unnatural? People lovin’ each other?”  
  
Arthur hummed.  
  
“Do Dutch and Hosea love each other?”  
  
Arthur looked at John, at the thoughtful expression on his face in the barely-there light of the moon through the canvas.  
  
“Yeah. A whole hell of a lot.”  
  
And John couldn’t help but think that maybe Arthur was right; that it wasn’t all that strange.  
  
  
  
19  
  
“Arthur—”  
  
Arthur couldn’t help the smug chuckle bubbling out of him as he pinned John to the ground and settled his full weight atop him, knocking the wind out of the younger man.  
  
They were too old to be roughhousing like this, really, but it was a lazy day and a bit of a tussle could be had; it wasn’t a real fight. Sure, Arthur had a few bitemarks and scratches and John sported some light bruises on his arms, but it was all good-natured play, if played a bit dirty every now and then.  
  
John struggled in Arthur’s hold, trying to buck him off, but Arthur was a hell of a lot heavier than him and he bared his teeth up at the older man in a snarl as he pinned his wrists to the ground on either side of his head.  
  
Both of their chests were heaving, and Arthur panted out a laugh, reaching up to wipe his brow once John stopped fighting him.  
  
“Got ya again, Johnny.”  
  
The younger man was quick and hard to catch, seemed to slip right between your fingers, but Arthur always caught him eventually, and he didn’t have much of a chance against his size and strength once he had nowhere to go.  
  
“Only ‘cause I tripped!” John argued in the face of Arthur’s smirk, forever a sore loser.  
  
“Good ‘nough for me” Arthur quipped, shifting his weight in John’s lap and sitting up, releasing both of his wrists now.  
  
John made a small, pained noise, and they both froze.  
  
Looking at each other in surprise.  
  
“Arthur, I—” John began, voice tight with shame.  
  
“It’s fine” Arthur replied, although he looked away and his cheeks were tinged with pink as he climbed off of the younger man.  
  
“I ain’t— I’m not…”  
  
Arthur looked down at John as he dusted himself off, saw the way the younger man’s throat worked anxiously, eyes fearful and hands covering his cock that had just been pressing firmly against his ass.  
  
“It’s fine,” he repeated. “If you are.”  
  
He missed the way John’s eyes followed him as he returned to work.  
  
  
  
20  
  
“ _Arthur_.”  
  
Arthur nodded awake from where he had been leaning against a large wagon wheel, his hat falling off of his face into his lap.  
  
“Wh—huh?” he mumbled, picking up his hat to place it back on his head and looking up.  
  
He had settled down for a nap in late afternoon after Ms. Grimshaw had nearly hit him over the head for working on his sprained ankle when she had told him to rest and now the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, bathing the world in orange. In front of him and a little to his right stood John, swaying slightly on his feet and loosely clutching a bottle of whiskey by the neck.  
  
“A bit early to be this drunk, ain’t it?”  
  
“’S only a bit,” John retorted, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “’nyway, I _said_ ; can I sit next to ya.”  
  
“You woke me up ta ask if y’ could sit with me?” Arthur asked, furrowing his brow in mild annoyance.  
  
“Yeah.” Arthur rolled his eyes before gesturing to the left of him in invitation, then crossing his arms, leaning his head back against the wagon wheel and feeling the strain in his neck from sleeping awkwardly, closing his eyes.  
  
John came to settle down next to him heavily, cursing as he spilt a bit of whiskey but not actually sounding terribly bothered, too pensive for that.  
  
The silhouettes of trees lay in front of them, the pinks and oranges of the sunset glowing behind them through the forest in a hazy, dying warmth.  
  
“You gon’ tell me why yer so drunk?” Arthur asked after a time. It wasn’t like John to get more then the far side of tipsy unless he had something on his mind.  
  
“Been thinkin’.”  
  
“About…?”  
  
“’Bout men.”  
  
Arthur opened his eyes in surprise.  
  
He heard John take a long swallow of whiskey next to him before sighing through his nose, tone sad and indecisive in the same breath.  
  
“You said ‘s plenty natural, but…it don’t seem it.”  
  
Arthur hummed.  
  
“Why would fellers get hanged for somethin’ that ain’t bad? I ‘member what you said ‘bout folks gettin’ hanged for all sorts’a things we do but theivin’ and killin’ is bad” John slurred. “I know the law ain’t…always proper. But folks get hanged for proper bad things, Arthur.”  
  
Arthur sighed too, then, itching at his jaw. “I dunno John,” he replied honestly, looking out at the trees. “Most folks think it’s bad, but it ain’t like you can decide what get’s you goin’ or who you fall in love with.”  
  
John was quiet for a while, rousing crickets chirping around them as fireflies began to flicker in the forest.  
  
“What if I like men?” he asked finally, voice more vulnerable than it would be without the alcohol.  
  
  
  
22  
  
“Arthur.”  
  
Arthur could still pick John’s hoarse voice out over the noise of the saloon, and he turned to the younger man as he threw back his whiskey only to pause in surprise.  
  
“The hell happened to you, Marston?”  
  
John’s gaze was jumpy, flickering around with a swollen, purpling bruise forming around his left eye, a bloody nose and a split lip marking up his face.  
  
“Can we get outta here?” he asked, dark eyes finally settling on Arthur to stress a sense of urgency.  
  
“What’d you do?” Arthur’s brow furrowed, frustration crossing his face as he placed his glass on the bar along with a few coins and stood.  
  
“I made a feller mad, what d’you think?” John hissed at the older man, weaving them through the crowd to the back entrance. “Gotta go before he causes us trouble.”  
  
Arthur breathed a groan through his nose, unhappy at having to leave the saloon and a nice night of drink and possibly company, but he still followed John to the back past a couple rooms out into the evening. The warmth of the day was ebbing away, and the bustle and noise of the saloon quieted to muffled music and chatter as Arthur shut the back door behind him before tailing John around the side of the building.  
  
“You owe me” he grumbled, adjusting his hat on his head, lacking the apparent nerves John had as the younger man crept along.  
  
“Sure, whatever.”  
  
They came out of the alley near the porch of the saloon, heading to where their horses were hitched across the road, but suddenly there was a commotion back behind them.  
  
“Hey, there’s the queer!”  
  
Arthur turned back to the porch where two men stood leaning against the railing in confusion.  
  
“’Scuse me?” he asked, none to friendly.  
  
Next to him, John spun around, clearly frightened but still bristling, much like a cornered animal, hand twitching for his gun.  
  
“That feller with ya, he’s a queer, mister. Came on ta me. I gave ‘im a good punch!” the bigger of the two said, showing off his bloody knuckles like a prize and grinning. “He’s lucky I ain’t gone to the sheriff. You watch yerself mister, I promise he ain’t got good intentions for ya!”  
  
Arthur looked to John as the man laughed, flicking his cigarette off the porch and clapping his friend on the shoulder before the two wandered inside.  
  
John’s eyes swept away from Arthur’s, his shoulders raised and tense in a way that was rather unlike him. Usually the younger man faced getting caught with brutish stubbornness.  
  
“The feller was pretendin’ to be…that way” he said, sniffing up some blood leaking out his nose. “Led me outside, but he ah…he wasn’t.”  
  
Arthur watched as John turned and headed for their horses again for a moment before following suit and climbing up onto Boadicea’s back, patting her neck.  
  
They rode back to camp in silence.  
  
  
  
23  
  
“Arthur...”  
  
Arthur was awake at the first murmur of his name, a light sleeper by lifestyle and unable to sleep through John’s restlessness when the younger man was up against him.  
  
It was cold out tonight, the wind blowing against their tent and leaving them to huddling into the same bedroll, a couple old blankets piled on top to trap the shared heat in. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, and neither was John shifting about and mumbling in his sleep; the younger man had been fitful since day one, although nightmares weren’t prone to happen much anymore.  
  
What _was_ uncommon, was the gentle huffs of John’s breathing, uneven little gasps hidden in Arthur’s chest where the younger man’s face was pressed.  
  
It wasn’t sickly, far from it with the jut of something suspiciously hard against Arthur’s thigh making him feel a bit hot under the collar. He was no prude, wasn’t shocked or repulsed by such a situation; he and John had been in such close courters they were practically on top of each other for years now and there was never _complete_ privacy. Still, there was a difference between the occasional hushed getting off while the other was sleeping or “I’m going out of camp for just a bit” and one’s hips rocking up against the other’s thigh.  
  
Especially when they wished it was more.  
  
Another whisper of Arthur’s name, a near whimper, and then John’s breath caught his lungs and he was snuffling awake.  
  
Arthur swallowed as John pulled away from him and sat up, breathing heavy through his nose, rubbing at his face before there a pause and an  
  
“Arthur?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Fuck” John muttered, shifting away. “M’sorry.”  
  
Arthur found himself mourning the loss of contact as John rolled over to put his back to him, no longer tucked into his warmth, the heat of where his erection had pressed against his thigh feeling like a brand. He shifted his legs, feeling the interested stiffness of his own cock.  
  
“What was it about?” he asked quietly, watching the curve of John’s shoulder.  
  
“…What?”  
  
“Yer dream. You was sayin’ my name.”  
  
It stiffened.  
  
He feared for a moment that he had pushed John when there was no reply, but then there was a minute rustle of blankets and a small, aroused breath.  
  
“Was dreamin’ about you” the younger man explained.  
  
Arthur’s heart settled, replaced by a heat simmering in his belly.  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Mm.”  
  
“What was I doin’?” he asked, touching his fingers gently along John’s shoulder and darting his tongue out to wet his lips when the younger man slowly rolled onto his back, eyes searching his face.  
  
“You were…we was fuckin’” John breathed, pupils blown wide.  
  
Arthur groaned softly, propping himself up on his elbow, eyes trailing over John’s throat.  
  
Despite how accepting the older man had always been about that…sort of nature, John was still struck by his reaction. Not upset, not revolted. _Approving_ in fact.  
  
“Are…are you…?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
John’s heart stuttered, his breath catching. He had had his suspicions; Arthur had been understanding and knowledgeable in a way that spoke of experience, but hearing it spoken in the raw and open air of the night left him nearly breathless.  
  
Their eyes locked as Arthur’s gaze lifted to his, murmuring a low, attractive “did you like it?” as his open hand carefully wandered down John’s belly, making his muscles jump.  
  
“Yes,” the younger man croaked, a shaky hand coming up to cover his mouth as his dark eyes turned their attention to Arthur’s hand.  
  
“You like this?” Arthur asked, pausing his decent above the waist of John’s drawers, his palm warm but fingers cool with the nipping cold outside the tent.  
  
John nodded, sighing a small whine before swallowing hard and offering up a “yes.”  
  
Arthur’s arm had pushed the blankets down as he trailed down John’s torso and he let his eyes roam over the younger man’s thin frame before slipping his hand into his drawers to find the hardness underneath.  
  
He was mildly familiar with John Marston’s cock, had seen it in the middle of changing or bathing, but he pulled it out into the open air to become properly acquainted, rumbling approvingly in a way that had it twitching in his grasp and John’s free hand coming to grip his arm.  
  
“Ever think ‘bout this?” he asked.  
  
John nodded.  
  
“Lots’a times.”  
  
A gentle chuckle rose out of Arthur as he stroked John’s cock slowly, squeezing the head in his fist as he came to it.  
  
“What else you think ‘bout?” he breathed into the younger man’s ear.  
  
John uncovered his mouth to talk, his breath uneven. _“Oh._ Y-your mouth. Your _cock_.”  
  
“Oh? Where?”  
  
God, how was Arthur so shameless? So confident in the way that he was? Tone so even despite his arousal. John wished to be so sure of himself.  
  
“In—in my mouth” he said shakily. “In my ass” his hips rose to press into Arthur’s fist working him, agonizingly slowly, making the pleasure ebb through him, up his spine.  
  
“You ever done somethin’ like that before?”  
  
He shook his head.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Mm. Awful ambitious, thinkin’ about me, then” Arthur said.  
  
John’s legs flexed as Arthur rubbed his thumb back and forth over his slit, spreading the wetness that had beaded there.  
  
“How come?”  
  
Arthur chuckled lowly.  
  
“I’m not exactly…virgin friendly.”  
  
John’s lips parted in confusion before realization came across his features and his cock throbbed, leaking precum over Arthur’s fingers. “I don’t mind” he breathed, gut clenching.  
  
“Not tonight” Arthur replied to the unspoken offer, twisting his wrist and not relenting as John’s hips bucked, the younger man whining out into the dark tent. “Easy,” he hushed.  
  
“Arthur please,” John pleaded against the pace.  
  
“Slowly,” he insisted, gaze easing away from John’s cock and instead to his face, studying the slope of the younger man’s nose, his furrowed brow. Eyes closed and mouth open in a silent moan. Dark lashes fanned out over his cheek. “Be patient.”  
  
“Fuck” John panted. It was too much and not enough, orgasm so close yet so far away, making his toes curl. “ _Been_ patient, Arthur. Been wantin’ you” he whimpered, turning his head to hide his face in the older man’s neck.  
  
Arthur faltered, a twinge of something in his heart at John’s words, but the younger man clutched at him and wheedled out a little “don’t stop” and he took a up slightly more substantial pace, making him gasp.  
  
“ _Oh_. Arthur,” John choked out as Arthur sidled a little closer and he could feel the older man’s erection pressed into his hip. How effected he was. “Can…can I…?” he released his grip on the other man’s arm to slip his hand between them and brush his fingers over the bulge in his pants.  
  
“Yeah” Arthur breathed, a flush of tingling heat going from his scalp to his toes as he rolled onto his back and abandoned John’s cock to draw his shirt up his work-hardened belly. He could feel the younger man’s eyes on him as he opened his pants, pushing them and his drawers down over the curve of his ass, freeing his cock that came jutting up to slap against his stomach.  
  
To the right of him, John’s breath hitched at the sight; long and terribly thick, gently curved with a large, flushed head. He swallowed tightly as Arthur held it at the base to angle it upwards, his thoughts spiraling, previous fantasies becoming that much realer.  
  
He was tentative as he reached out with his left hand, trailing his fingers from root to tip, watching Arthur’s abdomen tighten at the teasing touch before he took the girth in hand and found himself unable to quite close his fingers around it.  
  
Arthur gave an appreciative sighing moan as John stroked him, taking the younger man’s own cock in his right hand this time to work him once again. John certainly wasn’t as big, but he was just as pretty, nice and reactive, leaking and twitching. He couldn’t help but think that he’d like to take it just as much as he’d like to split the younger man open with his.  
  
“God, Arthur, I—” John whimpered, tucking his face in the older man’s neck again although he still watched as they pumped each other’s cocks, breathing hot puffs of air against his skin.  
  
“I know,” Arthur whispered before groaning “right there, yeah— _yes_ ” quietly as John’s thumb rubbed around the head and under the crown before each downstroke as his foreskin was pulled back, making him grip the bedroll underneath them with his free hand.  
  
“Wanted this for so long, I—” John cut himself off, the pleasure stealing his air. “Fuck” he gasped, pace stuttering for a moment before he caught himself and determinedly continued on, leaning up to press his lips against the corner of Arthur’s mouth.  
  
“Yeah,” Arthur agreed as he turned his head for their lips to meet, slow and tender and desperate.  
  
John’s were chilly and Arthur’s soft, slotting together and sending electricity up their spines to tickle at the base of their skulls as they breathed into each other.  
  
“Me too” the older man murmured into the kiss.  
  
John’s mouth fell open, breaking the seal of their lips and instead resting their foreheads together, panting breaths pitching higher, needy and whining.  
  
“Fuck m’close Arthur. I think—I think m’gonna—”  
  
Arthur’s cock throbbed at the desperate tone and he worked John’s in quicker, shorter strokes near the head that had the younger man squeezing his eyes shut and struggling to breathe.  
  
“C’mon,” he urged as John abandoned his cock to grip his muscular thigh frantically. “Come off, I’ve got ya.”  
  
“Arthur, Arthur—!” John was crying out quietly, body wound like a spring as he tightly fucked up into the older man’s fist, balls drawn up. “ _Arthur_!” he sobbed before a hitched gasp lodged in his throat and he was coming, spilling between Arthur’s fingers and shooting over his belly.  
  
“ _Shit_ , John” Arthur groaned at the sight as he turned his head to look, easing to long, slow strokes that milked out each drop of pearly white and left John’s breath shaking.  
  
John slumped against Arthur once the older man let go of his cock, pressing his face into his shoulder and breathing in his scent of sweat and campfire and woods. “Y-you…” he whispered, hand weak as he found Arthur’s cock again, hot and heavy.  
  
Arthur shooed it away to take it himself though, kissing the side of John’s temple and slicking the younger man’s spend over himself as he breathed hard almost-growls through a rough pace. “Hell,” he cursed, squeezing just behind the head on each stroke. “John—” he choked out before he grunted, cock jerking in his grasp.  
  
John lifted his head just enough to watch Arthur reach his own orgasm, grunting in time with each finishing pump his hips, release running down his knuckles to drip onto his stomach as he sucked in great gulping breaths.  
  
The bedroll felt a hundred times comfier than it did before they got off as they settled down, the tent silent except for the sound of them catching their breaths and an owl hooting somewhere in the distance.  
  
Arthur wiped his hand off on his pants before lazily threading his fingers through John’s, muscles loose and lax in the afterglow, brow somewhat damp with sweat.  
  
“That was…wow” John sighed as their breaths became more even and mellow, making Arthur laugh softly.  
  
“It was good” the older man agreed.  
  
“Did you…” John looked down at their clasped hands fondly despite the slight stickiness between them. “Did’ja mean what ya said? ‘Bout wantin’ me too?” he asked, glancing up at Arthur.  
  
“Yeah” Arthur admit, stroking his thumb over John’s hand. “I did.”  
  
And John found himself thinking that there wasn’t any way that his feelings could be unnatural when it felt this right.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [whispering like its a secret, only to condemn the one who hears it](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25448383) by [mikotoh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikotoh/pseuds/mikotoh)




End file.
